Losing Grip
by ceb
Summary: CARBY fic based upon the events of "Sailing Away"
1. Hold On

I'm trying something a little different with this fic. For one, it's much more angsty than my previous writing. Secondly, it's hopefully the start of a bigger work, the other parts will come sporadically (med school take up most of my time!) but I'll try not to make the gaps between posting too wide. It's set during/after "Sailing Away" (yup, I'm kicking it back OldSchool)- I've altered the ending of the episode slightly but otherwise all events that transpired up to that point are the same. 

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Disclaimer: If I owned Carter and Abby, they'd be having a much nicer time in season ten, believe me.

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Spoilers: Even the Martians have gotten season seven by now, surely?

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Thanks to: Two of my most favouritest Carbies ever- **Noodles** for the title and for many plot ideas and **Gooders** for similar embellishments. **Sarah McLachlan** for the song lyrics ("Hold On" from her album "Fumbling Towards Ecstasy" for those who like to know that sort of thing). To** Philip Pullman** for a titchy bit of inspiration (Go read "His Dark Materials" it's way better than this!) Finally, a **huge **thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review my previous work. You are all far too kind but I appreciate it very much.

Losing Grip

"So now you're sleeping peaceful 

I lie awake and pray

That you'll be strong tomorrow

And we'll see another day"

So here we are. The next chapter of the nightmare. The room is cold, clinical, the kind of room I'm more than accustomed to. The kind of room I've come to know intimately as my career has progressed. The machines click methodically, ringing off the too-white walls.

It's amazing how such a familiar setting can take on a unnerving, almost frightening feel at the flick of a switch. The tables have turned. It's not just another patient now, it's _my_ mother lying before me, eyes closed to the world of the living. And all I can do is pray, pray to a God I never quite believed in, that her sleep isn't eternal.

I clasp her hand between my own and stare at her face through bloodshot eyes. I always knew it could come down to this. I guess I just never quite believed it. Her face is ashen grey and her fingers cold against my own. The same slim hands that once lifted me up to shower me in kisses. 

"Maggie?" I croak pitifully. 

A tear trickles down my cheek. I ignore it and continue my vigil.

I pull the sheets up closer about her neck, smoothing the cotton down with my fingertips. I'd always loved the days Maggie would think to tuck me up in bed.

"Maggie?" I try again.

But the being before me lays lifeless. I bring my hand up to stroke her cheek.

"Mom?" My voice cracks.

But my breakdown is interrupted by the door opening behind me.

Sharply, I shift my gaze.

Carter is standing in front of me brandishing coffee.

I crinkle my nose at the smell but shake my head at the offer. Caffeine won't fix this problem.

"How's she doing?" he asks tentatively.

Sniffing and blinking back tears rapidly I reply, "Stupid question Carter."

He nods in agreement. There's a pause, then, "How are you holding up?"

I bite my lip. What could I say? My mother's lying by me, as close to death as I see people get. So I merely shrug my shoulders. 

He looks at me concerned but remains taciturn.

"I thought I was watching her every second," I add.

He meets my eyes, compassion on his face. 'That's not possible, you know that."

I sigh and look back to the motionless figure beside me.

"Have you eaten?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Abby, you haven't eaten since that gas station and you've been sitting here for hours."

I don't respond. The last thing I need right now is him mothering me. I _have_ a mother, she's lying in front of me…

I sniffle again and press my lips together.

"Okay, well I'm gonna run over to Doc Magoos, I won't be long."

He waits for a response, so I nod my head briefly, never taking my eyes from my mother and then he's gone. And I know he didn't leave because he was famished. He simply wanted to give me some breathing room. He's one of the most considerate men I've ever met.

A few more minutes pass. Nothing changes and the gentle whoosh of the respirator is threatening to lull me to sleep. I lean over and kiss Maggie's forehead before standing up stiffly.

After speaking with the RN on duty I head downstairs, purposefully avoiding the ER. The night air has turned chilly and I wrap the thin sweater more tightly around me. 

I walk over to the diner, intending to tell Carter I'm leaving. As I approach I spot him through the window and stop in my tracks. He's conversing with Rena. Apparently they've made up; at least some good has come of tonight. I know I'd feel awkward intruding and so I turn around and head for the el.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

I've barely been home five minutes when the phone rings. I instinctively ignore it, whoever it is, whatever it is can wait. But as I listen to the infernal ringing a panic starts to take a hold. What if they're calling about Maggie? And then I'm too petrified to move.

The machine cuts in.

"Abby?"

I breathe a sigh of relief. It's only Luka.

"I… I thought you might be at home. Carter was looking for you." There's a pause. "Call me if you need me. Bye."

A soft click ends the call. There was a hint of something in his voice on the word 'Carter', could it have been contempt? I know he wasn't overly happy about him going to Oklahoma with me. But I don't have time to think about Luka right now.

Needing to occupy myself I pad over to the refrigerator. I'm still not remotely hungry, but at least preparing some food will kill a bit of time. I deliberate over cooking a burger but decide against it, after all I already turned down Doc Magoos style of food once tonight. I wonder if Carter's still there, seated in the booth across from the troublesome teen.

I'm about half way through fixing myself some scrambled eggs when there's a knock at the door. I turn off the stove and take the pan off the heat before walking across and undoing the latch.

And Carter's standing in front of me.

He's visibly relieved to see me. 

"Hey," he begins. "You left, I was worried. I tried the river and the ER, Luka said he hadn't seen you."

I move aside to allow him in. "I just needed to get out of there," I answer.

"Okay," he responds softly.

I amble back to the sofa and drop down onto it. The little toy from Maggie's twinkie packet stares at me. I pick it up and twist it around in my hands. It's a pink plastic ring, with a purple 'gem stone' set in it. Carter notices my anxious behaviour and delicately places his own hand over mine, steadying me. I look down at this simple gesture and everything becomes too much. My bottom lip begins to tremble violently and before I know it I'm emitting choking sobs, my entire body quivering.

Carter's arms are around me in a heart beat, his fingers making light circular motions across my back, soothing me to the best of his ability. His shirt is soaked through in seconds and my fingers are clawing at his shoulders. Yet he doesn't flinch, just mutters soft sentiments into my ear and kisses my hair tenderly.

"Shh… she's gonna be okay," he whispers, "you're gonna be okay."

But I cry on as he cradles me to his chest.

That's where you're wrong Carter. She'll never be okay.


	2. Hand Me Down

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A/N- Here's chapter two of "Losing Grip". Thanks to everyone who took the time to review chapter one- I'm so glad you liked it. I just hope you like this chapter too! Love and huge appreciation to **Gooders** and **Noodles** as ever and thanks to **Matchbox Twenty** for the lyrics from "Hand Me Down". Chapter three is in the works- enjoy!

  
  
_"I'm here for the hard times   
The straight to your heart times   
When living ain't easy   
You can stand up against me   
Whatever may fall on you   
Call on me"_

I awaken to a darkened room; just the way I like it. I roll over and fumble for the alarm clock. 14:04. Man, I was tired. Lifting the comforter up, I'm met with a rush of cold air which almost tempts me to crawl back under the covers. But I can't lie in bed all day, so I throw on my robe, realizing I'm still wearing clothes from the previous day and step out into the living room. My eyes are sticky with tears of the night before and the pounding in my head is worse than any hangover I've experienced. I have a vague recollection of being carried, half-asleep, into my bedroom.

Staring at the couch I see he's left a note:

"Abby,

I had to leave for work, I didn't want to wake you. I get off at midnight. If you need anything, ANYTHING at all, then call me.

John"

I didn't realize the poor guy had a shift today. Thank God I'm off until tomorrow. 

Automatically I grab the phone and call the ICU for a status report on Maggie. No change. I give the nurse strict instructions to call me if anything happens and pass along my cell phone number, something I forgot to do in the tumult of the previous evening.

I decide to go visit her but I need to ring Eric first. He doesn't answer his phone, which I expected. I summarize yesterday's events to his voicemail, a lump rising in my throat as I do so. I feel weary as I put the phone down but know I have to carry on as best I can. This isn't going to be a short process.

Fifteen minutes later I'm showered, changed and attempting to whip up a late lunch. But the milk's off, the bread's stale and I don't even want to look inside that plastic tub on the middle refrigerator shelf. It seems like grocery shopping will be added to my schedule for the day.

An hour after waking, I'm parking my car at County. This could almost be just any other day. Except it's not. My mom is lying comatose around a two minute walk from where I am.

On my way up to the ICU a sudden desire to see Carter takes a hold of me. He has no idea how much he helped last night. Although I feel somewhat embarrassed at my reaction, I feel I owe him thanks. I divert my course to the ER and stride up to the front desk.

"Hey Frank, is Carter around?"

Frank looks up uninterested. "He's on his break."

"Oh," I reply dejectedly. Perhaps he's at Docs or he might possibly be down by the river. I briefly contemplate embarking upon a search and rescue type mission. But then I remember finding him with Rena the night before. Maybe he doesn't want to be saved.

I thank Frank and turn to leave as Luka steps out of the lounge.

His face registers surprise for a moment before he walks up to me.

"What are you doing down here?" he asks, not unpleasantly.

"I came to see my mom," I reply simply, "I just needed to do something here first." It's probably best that I omit Carter's late night visit. Luka's already a little less than thrilled that John accompanied me to Oklahoma in the first place.

"How are you feeling?" he questions, bringing his hand up to my cheek.

"I'm okay," I reply quickly, nodding my head in affirmation, almost willing it to be true.

My response seems to satisfy him and he asks me round to his new apartment for dinner. I've no real inclination to go but a negative answer will only make him worry. We agree on eight o'clock and he jokes to me to pick up a bottle of red wine on the way over. I smile and move away. One day I might open up to this man. Maybe.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

Up in the ICU I smile briefly at the receptionist before walking over to Maggie's room. On opening the door I hesitate, surprised at the sight in front of me. My mother still lies catatonic on the bed, a respirator performing the work of her diaphragm and intercostal muscles. But by her side, almost as inanimate, is Carter.

"Hey," I voice.

He turns sharply, startled. "Ab… Abby," he stutters.

He seems embarrassed at being caught by me.

"I looked for you downstairs," I say softly, "I wanted to umm… to thank you, for last night."

Now it's my turn to be embarrased, I don't remember the last time I cried in front of someone.

He shrugs it off. "It was nothing."

I shake my head, eyes set in the same fashion as the previous evening as I thanked him in the car, before we realized… I feel nauseated at the memory. "It wasn't nothing," I tell him. "You really helped me, thank you."

His eyes lock with mine for a second and I notice just how deep their chocolate colour is.

Then he's standing, "Well I'd better get back. I just wanted to check on her," he states, seemingly compelled to explain his presence in the room.

I nod in response.

He steps across the room but pauses when he reaches the door. "Do you want me to come round again tonight?"

"That would be nice," I begin before remembering that I already have plans. "I can't," I correct myself, "I told Luka I'd.."

"Okay," he says, cutting me off. "See you tomorrow then."

And he's gone.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

By six o'clock I'm in the grocery store. For some unknown reason it's pandemonium tonight and shopping carts whizz past me in a flash of aluminium. I fight my way through the chaos to the carrots but don't have the strength or inclination to do the same for potatoes. 

Several green vegetables later I'm in the dairy section. Milk, cheese and eggs all find their way into the cart.

Further round the store I pick up bread, noodles and macaroni, all staple foods in my diet. God I feel like a student again. 

Still further, and jello, coffee and cinnamon are added. Then the essential: diet coke.

I start wondering what kind of meal I'm going to be able to make with these random ingredients and hastily pick up some chicken, fish and mixed herbs.

My morning headache is persisting and I seek out the medicine section to get some aspirin. There's a young woman standing there, probably five, maybe ten years my junior, picking out sleeping tablets. I resist the urge to educate her on the dangers of these insomnia remedies and merely pick up my analgesia.   
On the way to the cash register I walk past the licquor section and pause in front of the rosé. I recall Luka's half-joke about me picking up some wine for dinner. I'm sorely tempted, I haven't wanted to drink so much in a long while. I'm certain I would have done last night if it weren't for Carter's impromptu visit. And as I stand there, shiny curvaceous bottles gleaming at me in the artificial light, it's only the thought of my best friend that prevents me from snatching one greedily from the shelf.

Hurrying on through the crowds I collect some strategically positioned cookies and find a queue to join. A moment later I remember my affinity for mushroom omelettes and double back for the fungi.

On returning I find the shortest queue and join it before I spend any more of my hard-earned cash. However, this "short" line still seems a mile long and there's another problem. Staring at me from a stand nearby are a row of glittering vodka bottles. My eyes are transfixed. Bad choice of queue there Abby. And before I know what I'm doing, I'm sneaking one from its place in line and placing it delicately amongst the other shopping.


	3. Kody

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A/N- Chapter three guys! This one is dedicated to all affected by "Touch and Go". I don't wanna mention any events in case any saintly Spoilerfrees are reading this. Thanks go out to: **Gooders** and **Noodles**, as always guys, you quite simply rock. **Matchbox Twenty** for "Kody" lyrics. My trusty **pathology books**- I always knew I'd find a use for them one day! And also I can't go on any longer without thanking **Roget's Thesaurus** which has gotten me out of a few sticky moments.

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"So please hand me a bottle   
I think I'm lonely now  
And please give me direction   
I think the hurt set in  
and I don't feel nothing, yet" _

It's 8:23 and I'm running up to Luka's apartment. I hope he's accepted my inability to run on time by now. He's clearly been looking out for me as he opens the door before I reach it. 

"Sorry," I say hurriedly, stepping over the threshold, "the supermarket was heaving and then traffic was bad and naturally it started raining…"

He cuts me off with a light laugh. "No matter, the lasagne's only slightly burnt."

I half-smile and hope he's joking, I'm never quite sure with this man.

It turns out that he was teasing and the pasta is delicious. As we're doing the dishes my cell phone rings. I scramble around in my purse, finally locating the source of the noise and hitting the call button.

"Abby?"

It's John.

"Hey, I reply."

"I thought you'd want to know that neuro have been back to see your mom. They've given her a cat scan but obviously they won't tell me anything 'cause I'm not next of kin or her doctor."

"Okay," I say, "did you go up to see her?"

"Yeah."

"How is she?" I ask.

"No change yet, I'm sorry."

I nod my head slowly.

"Okay, thanks, see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

I put down the phone and walk back to the sink.

"Who was it?" Luka asks, plate in hand.

I pick up the cloth and resume washing the dishes. The water's turned cold.  
"Carter," I reply shortly.

His face tightens and he places the plate on the pile with excessive force.

"I'm surprised he still has things to tell you."

I look up at him quizzically, "what's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugs, "Just you see him a lot, no? Amazing he still finds things he hasn't talked to you about already."

"Luka, he was calling about Maggie," I spit. Just because _we_ never manage to have a coherent conversation about anything of significance, doesn't mean I'm vocally inept.

"Oh, okay," he says relenting a little before adding, "I guess he'd know."

What is he getting at? I glare at him sternly.

"I mean he was with you at the time it happened," he explains.

Oh for God's sake. "You're still mad about that?" I ask, exasperated.

"It's just, I want to help you too Abby," he says sorrowfully.

He can start by getting off my case; but I think he means well. "I know."

Breaking eye contact, I turn back to the suds in front of me.

A half hour later we're sat on the couch, watching some horrifically violent movie that Luka picked out. Doesn't he see enough GSWs in the ER? I think back to Carter's phone call and make a mental note to track down the specialist tomorrow. Rubbing my eyes sleepily I yawn and attempt to follow the scatty plot of the film. Luka curls up closer to me and lightly turns my face towards his before leaning down to kiss me. I respond, but it's half-hearted; I'm too preoccupied with thoughts of my mother. He begins to trail butterfly kisses down my neck and unfastens the first few buttons of my shirt. But I'm really not in the mood.

Extricating myself from him, I stand and announce that I'm going to bed.

He raises an eyebrow at this which instantly falls again as he sees my expression. This wasn't a seductive suggestion. He tells me he's going to watch the end of the movie and I nod, bid him goodnight and walk away.

***********************************************************

The next morning sees me back at work. It's busy and I'm glad of the distraction but the rest of the staff are walking on eggshells around me. I know their intentions are good but it's beginning to get irritating.

As I'm walking down the hallway Carter spots me and asks me to assist. 

"How come you got stuck working the eight o'clock after twelve till twelve the day before?" I ask him.

He shrugs, "born lucky I guess," he says sarcastically.

I follow him into an exam room and see a young girl of around sixteen laid on the bed.

"This is Abby," John tells the girl, "She's a nurse who's gonna help me out, okay?"

The girl nods tentatively.

"Abby," he begins, turning to face me, "this is Julia, she's complaining of lower abdominal pain and fever," turning back to the girl he asks, "is it okay if I examine you?"

She nods again in consent and Carter begins to press gently on her belly. He reaches a critical spot and the girl winces.

"Pain in the right iliac fossa," he tells me. 

I approach the girl and tell her I'm going to take her temperature. Gently, I place the thermometer into her ear and wait for the beep. "She's pyrexic," I inform Carter, "101.5 0F."

"Does it hurt when you pee, Julia?" he asks.

"Yeah," she replies, "and I need to go all the time."  
He looks up at me. 

"UTI?" I ask.

He nods, "Yup. Julia, I think you have what's called cystitis, a urinary tract infection usually caused by bacteria. I'm going to give you some antibiotics but you need to keep drinking too, it helps flush the bugs out."

"Cranberry juice," I add.

He smiles, "Yeah, cranberry juice is good. Are you allergic to any medication Julia?"

She shakes her head.

"Okay, let's give her some trimethoprim," he states, addressing me again.

"And is there any chance you could be pregnant?" he asks the young girl.

"I'd be a major religious figure if I was."

Carter and I share a grin.

"How's that work, anyway? The cranberry juice thing," I ask him as we walk into the hall and leave Julia to get dressed.

"Well it used to be thought that it acidified the urine and so made conditions less favourable for the bacteria. However, that theory's been scrapped more recently and now it's believed that tannins in the juice inhibit the pathogenic _E.coli_ pili from binding to the bladder epithelium."

"Good to know," I say.

We approach the drug lock up and I enter to retrieve the antibiotic. He follows me in.

"How are you holding up with being back at work?"

"I'm okay," I tell him, "I just wish everyone would stop treating me like I'm made of glass."

"They're just concerned about you Abby."

I exhale loudly, "I know."  
He asks after Maggie and I tell him that I'm meeting the neurologist at midday.

"Do you wanna catch some lunch when I get back?" I inquire.

"Sure, just come find me."

***********************************************************

"So what did she say exactly?" he asks, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

It's a little after one o'clock, Carter and I are seated in a familiar booth in Doc Magoos and I'm relating back the conversation I've just had with the neurologist.

"Nothing that I didn't already know. Maggie's chances of waking up are fairly remote." My voice catches on the last word and I shovel a forkful of salad into my mouth in an attempt to hide it.

He notices. "People disprove doctors' prognoses all of the time."

I smile tightly, "one can only hope, right?"

We continue eating in silence for a few minutes.

I take a long sip of my coffee before telling him, "Eric called me."

He looks up from his food, "when?"

"This morning, just after I saw you. He's getting a flight here tomorrow morning."

"When did you last see him?" Carter asks.

"Probably last Christmas."

"So it'll be nice to see him," he comments, now eating blueberry pie.

Thoughts of my baby brother make me smile and I follow Carter's lead and take a spoonful of the pie we're sharing.

"I just wish it was under more favourable circumstances," I add with a sigh.

A few moments later we're finished eating and I'm staring out of the window at the drizzling rain.

"Do you want to go see a movie tonight?" Carter asks, bringing me back to reality.

I mull the suggestion over in my head. I know he's being sweet and trying to keep me occupied. I'm tired but know that even if I try to get an early night I won't sleep, so why not?

"Sure, what's playing?"

"I've no idea," he admits, "have a look at the listings for the Music Box and pick something out, my shout."

I smile up at him warmly. Thirty minutes with this man and I already feel a little better about things. "Okay," I agree, before we get the cheque and head back to the ER.

Two hours later I'm dealing with a rather unsociable demerol junkie and step into the lounge hoping for two minutes' respite. No such luck.

"Abby," shouts Haleh, sticking her head through the doorway, "GSW five minutes out."

"What about my irritable IVDU?" I ask.

"Let him rant and rave as much as he likes, they need you in trauma one."

Shaking the cobwebs from my brain, I head off to meet the rest of the team.

Luka's the attending on the case and he smiles at me as I walk into the room.

"How did it go with the neurologist?" he asks.

"Fine," I reply, not really feeling inclined to explain the details, especially with other people around.

He grabs a yellow gown and starts putting it on. I follow his lead and take one for myself. 

"That play you wanted to see is on at the Goodman tonight," he tells me.

"I can't tonight Luka, sorry."

"But I already booked the tickets," he exclaims.

"Then you should have asked me first," I reply, meeting his eyes.

"So where are you going?" he asks as the patient bursts through the double doors on a gurney accompanied by two EMTs.

I look away before answering, "I told Carter I'd do something with him tonight."

"Again?" 

Our conversation is interrupted by a briefing from Dolores. The gunshot wound is to the chest and the guy needs intubating. 

"Well I didn't know you wanted to do something tonight," I tell Luka as I draw up the etomidate and suxamethonium he requires.

"Would it have mattered if you did?" he asks spitefully, as he picks out the size of ET tube he wants.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I see Chuny glance sideways at us, watching the argument unfold.

"Just that you appear to prefer Carter's company at the moment."

"At least he doesn't pick a fight with me every time I can't do what he wants," I reply.

Luka opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by Romano's entrance.

He clearly heard my last statement as he remarks, "Ms. Lockhart, there will be no fighting here please, unless it involves some skimpy bathing suits and large amount of mud. Now, what do we have here?"

But before anyone can begin to give him an answer, the patient crashes.

***********************************************************

The next time I look at the clock it's five thirty. I've been officially off-duty for a half hour. Relieved, I collect my belongings from the lounge and clock out. The GSW victim didn't make it, my junkie left AMA and I'm about ready to drop.

Once I'm at home I look up the listings for the Music Box and discover they have an eight o'clock showing of "When Harry Met Sally". I love that movie so I call up Carter and he tells me he'll pick me up at seven thirty. 

I make some dinner, change my clothes and before I know it, he's knocking on my door.

"You're making me watch a romantic comedy?" he asks, teasing.

I grab my coat, purse and keys and reply, "we can go see something else if you'd prefer."

"No, I told you to choose, I should have expected as much." I can see a slight twinkle in his eye, he loves playing with me.

I roll my eyes, step out into the hallway and lock the door.  
"And you know, I wouldn't admit this to anyone else, but I kinda dig that movie."

"I always knew there was a sensitive soul in there just waiting to jump out," I tell him, as we walk down the stairs.

"Well just don't make it common knowledge," he adds, winking.

The theatre is warm and cosy despite being fairly empty. John rustles his popcorn as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb. Harry and Sally have just gone on a double date, only to be left alone by their respective partners leaving together in a cab. Despite my deep love for the film, I'm struggling to keep my eyes open. I didn't get much sleep the night before and work really took things out of me. I try to keep my gaze fixed on the screen but exhaustion wins out and my eyelids close.

The next thing I know, Carter is leaning over me, softly calling my name. I sleepily open my eyes to discover that the film has ended, the house lights are up and John has an amused expression on his face.

"Now, I know you adore the movie, so I can only conclude that my company is soporific."

"Sorry," I mumble, "I'm just so tired."

He shakes his head grinning, "it's not a problem Abby." He offers his hand and helps me to my feet. "Come on, let's get you home."

The journey home is uneventful and we reach my apartment building quickly. Carter parks up and walks me to my apartment. I fumble for my keys, eventually finding them and turning the bolt.

"Thanks Carter," I say, "do you want to come in for a coffee?"

He responds with, "I think you need to go to bed."

I nod, accepting. Yet I hesitate before going in. I don't want to be here alone. My cold, dark apartment, full of my dying mother's things. But I can't bring myself to ask John to stay. I don't have the courage and I can't expect him to be away from home for another night just for me. So instead I bid him goodbye, open the door and walk inside, to where temptation waits…


	4. The Difference

**A/N:** Thanks for the continued reviews- you guys are way too nice to me. Also thanks to **Matchbox Twenty** once again for lyrics from "The Difference", **Gooders** and **Noodles** as always. This chapter is a little on the short side and I'm back at college now so I'm afraid updates will be much more sporadic but hang in there with me guys- I'm writing chapter five at the moment it's just on a temporary hiatus until a couple of exams are over! _  
  
"When she was warm and tender and you   
Held her arms around you   
There was nothing but her   
Love and affection she was   
Crazy for you now she's   
Part of something that you lost" _   
  
The corridors pulse with people as I attempt to walk against the flow. It's just another Wednesday but Midway is heaving. And I thought that O'Hare was supposed to be the busy airport. I finally struggle through to the arrivals gate for the 9:10 plane from Florida and impatiently wait for the passengers to appear. A few moments later, people begin to flood through, searching for family members amid the chaos. I spot him quickly and shout to him from the crowd.   
"Eric!"   
His head turns sharply and I see his eyes light up as he walks over and envelops me in a hug.   
"Abby!"   
As I pull back from his embrace I ask, "have you grown again?"   
He laughs and comments that I've probably shrunk.   
After our moment of frivolity it's down to business.   
"How's mom?"   
I exhale slowly, "she's been better," I answer softly.   
"But she's been worse too, right?" he asks worriedly.   
I turn my shining eyes to meet my baby brother's and I don't know how to respond. So I simply say, "I'm really glad you're here."   
  
On the el back to County I fill him in properly on the events of the last few days. I tell him about my impromptu trip to Oklahoma and what the neurologist told me the day before. He knows the drill to a certain extent; this isn't the first time that we've had to deal with Maggie attempting suicide. But it is the first time she's been comatose because of it.   
As we walk up to the ICU I feel a little more resolute in myself; I know I have to stay strong for Eric's sake. I've spent my entire life trying to protect him and I'm not about to give up now. He didn't have to watch Maggie seizing on a hospital bed, he didn't feel his own heart almost give way when he saw her ECG and he doesn't have to live with the guilt of knowing that this happened in his presence. But I also don't want to give him false hope. In all probability our mother is going to die and there's nothing I can do to change that. Truth be told, I've never felt so helpless before.   
  
"Mom?" Eric speaks tentatively on entering her room.   
I watch him approach her and take her hand, the tiny fingers dwarved by his own. A lump rises in my throat as I observe his loving gaze falling on the pale figure in the bed. And although I know it's irrational, I can't help but feel that I've failed them both. I didn't protect either of them this time. I wipe frantically at my eyes before he notices the tears that have formed there. But I needn't have worried as his eyes are firmly fixed upon Maggie.   
The door opens behind me and Carter walks into the room. He spies my reddened eyes in a heartbeat.   
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll come back later," and opens the door to leave.   
"No John, it's fine," I assure him.   
A little reluctantly he remains where he is and closes the door gently.   
Eric looks up at the stranger who has entered.   
"Eric, this is my friend John. John, this is my brother Eric," I introduce.   
The two men shake hands.   
"So you were with Abby, in Oklahoma?" Eric questions him.   
Carter nods.   
"Are you a nurse too?" he asks again.   
This time Carter shakes his head, "no, I'm a doctor, but I work with Abby in the ER."   
"She said you've been a great help," Eric adds, embarrassing me.   
Carter smiles politely, "it's nothing."   
There's a pause before he initiates further conversation.   
"So you live in Florida, right?"   
"Yeah," confirms Eric, "it's a damn sight warmer down there."   
"I'll bet," Carter agrees, then he turns to me, "whatever possessed you to move to Chicago Abby?"   
"I don't mind the cold," I reply, "it's not much different to Minnesota anyway."   
"I think she's crazy too," Eric comments.   
I glare at him good-naturedly.   
Carter opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by his pager beeping. He glances at it.   
"911 to the ER, I gotta go. It was nice meeting you Eric."   
Eric replies, "You too, I'll probably see you again."   
Carter smiles, tells me he'll see me later and exits.   
  
I pad across to where Eric is seated and perch on the edge of the bed next to him.   
"So was that your boyfriend?" he asks nonchalantly.   
"What?" I ask surprised. "No, he's my best friend."   
"He can't be both?" he questions.   
I'm contemplative for a second before changing the subject.   
"Do you want a drink?"   
An hour and two coffees later we head downstairs so that I can begin my shift. We enter the lounge and I spy Luka seated on the couch perusing Scientific American. He looks up at me and smiles and I reciprocate. It appears our disagreement from the day before is forgotten.   
"Luka," I start, motioning towards Eric, "this is my brother, Eric."   
The men greet with brief "hellos" and then Luka turns back to his magazine.   
I continue my previous conversation with Eric only to be interrupted by Luka who inquires as to my evening's plans.   
I inform him that I'm going to spend time with my brother and he launches into a complaint of not having seen me for days. What does he expect me to do? I'm not prepared to leave Eric in my apartment just so I can go sleep at my boyfriend's. He makes a quip about the chances of seeing me before the summer is out and exits.   
I take a deep breath and close my locker frustratedly.   
"_That's_ your boyfriend?" Eric asks incredulously.   
I give him a look, hand him my spare key and say "see you at home Eric."   
  
Later, I'm assisting Luka whilst he performs a pelvic exam on a pregnant teenager and he clearly feels remorseful about our semi-argument.   
"I'm sorry about earlier," he tells me as he signs off on the chart.   
He continues as we walk into the hall. "I know you have a lot on, it's just… I miss you."   
"Okay," I reply.   
"So if you can't come around tonight, do you want to get some food during your break?"   
"Sure," I consent.   
He smiles, "Okay, come find me?"   
I nod and he walks away.   
  
I do catch up with Luka for some dinner but our meeting is curtailed by an MVA rolling in. Consequently I leave work an hour and a half late and when I finally arrive home I'm exhausted both mentally and physically. Eric is seated on my couch watching cartoons and it feels like he's six again. He sees my lassitude and stands up, offering to make me a coffee. I smile appreciately and collapse on the sofa. Eric asks how my day has been and I tell him long and arduous. He laughs merrily and asks if I wouldn't prefer a drop of "this". I turn towards him to indentify "this" and see his hand indicating the vodka bottle perched innocently on the worktop. I stare at the bottle longingly before assuring him that coffee is fine. I wonder momentarily why I've never tried to explain my drinking problem to him. It's down to pride I guess. I've always been the strong one who sheltered him. I didn't want my little brother to see his big sister's weakness.   
He returns to the couch with the caffeinated beverage and I sip it greedily, cradling the mug emanating warmth.   
We talk for a while, mostly of things of little significance: the weather, TV, the latest book he read; both trying to distract ourselves from the real reason we're seated together in my apartment. The conversation eventually dwindles and we content ourselves with watching some old black and white number on Turner Classic Movies. I'm stretched out across Eric's lap, his arm loosely draped over my shoulders and I realize how much I've missed him over the last few months. Comfortable and content for the first time in days, except perhaps when I was in Carter's presence, I allow myself to drift into a dreamless slumber. 


	5. Soul

****

A/N: Thanks once again to **Matchbox Twenty** for their wonderful lyrics- this chapter's song is "Soul". Love and hugs to **Gooders** and **Noodles** as ever. A "wifebeater" is a white vest- thought it best to clear that up right now! Enjoy guys- this chapter was hard!

_   
  
"You've been so composed   
We all know there's always something tearing you apart   
It's always so much longer than you counted on   
And it hits you so much harder than you thought" _

Morning rolls around once more and almost before I know it, it's time for Eric to leave. He's back on duty tonight and can't stay in Chicago any longer. I drive him back to Midway and bid him farewell before returning home. As I watch him step away from me, my heart pounds and I wonder how I'd cope it anything happened to him. He's been the one constant in my life; my baby brother. I push the thought to the back of my mind; I've already enough to think about.   
The apartment seems cold and lonely again without him there. I've a few hours until my shift starts and wonder how best to occupy that time. That's when I remember that John's shift will be finishing in a little under an hour. If I hurry I should be able to catch up with him.   
Grabbing a quick coffee, I run into my bedroom to find some vaguely presentable clothing and a hairbrush. Deftly, I sweep my hair up into a high ponytail and swiftly change into clean jeans and a wifebeater. The weather's been fairly warm of late but I snatch my denim jacket from the back of the door before leaving my apartment… without my car keys. 

After dashing back for the aforementioned objects I finally make it to County. Kerry seems mildly surprised to see me there so early but I think given half a chance she'll set me on clearing the huge pile of charts to the right of her. I think it best to make my reasons for being here clear as soon as possible.   
"Is Carter around?" I ask her.   
She looks at her watch, "isn't he off at ten?" she asks.   
"Yes," I confirm, "but has he left yet?"   
"I haven't seen him for twenty minutes, try the lounge."   
I thank her and head in that direction.   
My search is fruitful as John is there, taking his jacket out of his locker.   
"Abby?" he exclaims in surprise before his voice takes on a more worried tone. "Is everything okay?"   
"I'm fine," I assure him, "I just wondered if you fancied a walk?" 

Shortly after, we're down by the river. It really is a beautiful day and there are more people milling around than usual.   
"How was your shift?" I ask him casually, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my back, jacket long since abandoned in the trunk of my car.   
"A little weird," he replies cryptically.   
I raise an eyebrow at him and he continues, "Well, first I treated a ninety-nine year old retired doctor who managed to correct my diagnosis."   
I laugh, "Great ego boost there."   
He smiles, "Yeah," and pauses before continuing, "Next up was a kid who'd managed to get his mother's wedding ring stuck on his big toe."   
"Kids can achieve anything when it comes to foreign objects," I comment.   
"But the best part," he adds, "is that the wedding's tomorrow. The parents seemed more bothered about getting the ring back in one piece than the toddler's welfare."   
My face drops and I gaze out across the water; that didn't sound as amusing.   
"And finally, Carter says, "I get a guy who's convinced he's Jay Leno and goes around introducing me as his next guest!"

A few moments later we've reached the little bench where we sit quite frequently. I look out at a boat on the river and take a sip of my coffee: cream, no sugar, just the way I like it.   
We're both quiet for a moment, just enjoying each other's company, before he comments, "you're smoking less."   
I look at him quizzically, before realizing he's right. It's a little ironic that I've felt less inclined to smoke over the last few days, but perhaps seeing Maggie in her present state has finally knocked some sense into me regarding the abuse of my own body.   
"Always trying to quit I guess," I reply casually.   
He smiles, "can only be a good thing."   
Which gets me to thinking about a certain bottle on my table at home. And suddenly I want to tell him. I don't owe him an explanation, he's not my sponsor, but he is my friend.   
"I bought a bottle of vodka on Monday night." I keep my eyes focussed on the little pot of caffeine held between my hands. I don't want to see his face. If he looks disappointed it will kill me, but I don't want to see a sympathetic expression either.   
So, I continue, "I was standing in line at the grocery store and it was just staring at me. I put it in the cart before I even knew what I was doing."   
I take another sip of the coffee, still averting my gaze from him.   
"It's been sitting on my table all week," I add, "yet I've not had the courage to even open the bottle."   
He's been silent for way too long and I can't bear the tension any longer. I chance a glance in his direction and my eyes meet his. To my surprise they're not full of despondency, he actually looks kind of proud.   
"What are you so happy about?" I ask abruptly, "I almost fell off the wagon."   
"But you didn't," he responds softly.   
I sigh and drain the last of my drink. "But it would have been so easy," I mutter. "Almost as easy as the first time."   
He's pensive for a moment, before asking tentatively, "Is that why you started drinking? Because things got bad with your mom?"   
I shake my head vehemently.   
"Then why?" he quizzes.   
I toss the empty coffee cup into the trash and take a deep breath.   
"Things just became too much for me, my home life was a mess, Richard was always working, I was taking more and more shifts just in case…" I cut myself off. I pause, and then continue with, "We weren't as happy as we'd been at the beginning."   
"Abby, do you blame yourself for your marriage not working out?" he asks hesitantly. "Did Richard know how much you were drinking?"   
I laugh mirthlessly, "The marriage was failing before I started drinking," I tell him.   
Realization crosses his face, "So that was the catalyst?"   
I contemplate this, "Part of it," I answer cryptically. I'm going to have to tell him. Tell him the one thing that nobody knows. Inform him of the biggest decision I ever had to make.   
"I had a really important choice to make, " I begin, opening up more now, allowing myself to be more vulnerable than I have in a long while, "and I knew I had to make it myself as I couldn't talk to Richard about it. I think that was the beginning of the end for us, we just stopped talking about everything."   
My chest shudders a little and I take a moment to get my emotions in check.   
"What was the decision?" he asks, in little more than a whisper.   
A tear slips down my cheek and I don't wipe it away. It's crunch time. No going back now, I have to let him know.   
"I had an abortion."

I'm met with a stunned silence.   
"It wasn't planned," I explain, "hell, we barely even saw each other any more. I was trying to come to terms with work and Richard's infidelity. Then, in the midst of this turmoil, I was pregnant. And I didn't know what to do. Part of me was scared, scared of becoming a mother with all the responsibility it brings, scared of balancing the rigours of work with child care and mostly, terrified of bringing a bipolar baby into the world."   
I sniffle and wipe my eyes with my sleeve.   
"But on the other hand, I really wanted… want… to have a baby. But I knew I didn't want it be _his_ baby. I guess that really made the decision for me."   
I pause.   
"So I had an abortion and found sanctuary in a bottle of tequila a night."   
By this point I'm crying fairly openly. I _never_ cry in front of people, yet this is the second time I've cried in front of John in the space of a week.   
He reaches across and covers my hand with his own.   
"I'm sorry Abby," he voices.   
Again his face isn't the picture I expected. There's no disappointment at my actions. No piteous glances in my direction. Just genuine feeling- the sympathetic smile of a true friend. And there's something else there; admiration. His face radiates warmth, he's proud of me. Proud that I had the courage to make such a decision with no support and that I've shared it with him now.   
This expression elicits a small smile from me, our wordless exchange complete.   
I stand, signalling the end of our meeting.   
"I have to go to work. I'll see you later John." 


	6. If You Could Only See

****

A/N: Here's chapter six… finally. Sorry guys, I've been ill and have exams coming up. Love and hugs to the usual crew. The song is "If You Could Only See" by a band named **Tonic **who Noods put me onto. The quote Abby doesn't know the source of is from **Joseph Roux**. Hope you enjoy. Extra brownie points for anyone who can catch the Maura quote.

__

"You're stretching out your arms   
To something just not there"

My eyes are dry by the time I step a foot inside County's doors; the comfortable façade back in place.   
With eagle-eyes Kerry spots me before I make it to the lounge.   
"Abby, triage please."   
Fantastic. Just what I wanted today.   
How I feel about working triage is clearly written all over my face as Malucci walks by and asks if I'd rather give him a hand in exam three.   
Weaver hears his request and collars Haleh to work triage instead.   
Sometimes I really like Dave.

On entering the room I'm met by a distressed college student. She's laid on the bed with her arm at an awkward angle and she gazes at me piteously.   
"Radio-ulnar fracture after a fall," Dave informs me. He proceeds to give me the details but I'm not really listening. I'm more interested in the glazed stare of the girl in front of me, her movements so frenetic that they're making me nervous.   
"Are you okay?" I ask her, cutting Dave off mid-sentence.   
She looks up at me with doleful eyes, "Did they find him?" she asks shakily.   
"Find who?" I inquire gently.   
"Will," she replies breathily, "we were… we were swimming in the lake. He went under and he didn't come back up."   
The girl's voice breaks a little, she sniffs hard and bites down upon her lip. More composed, she continues, "I tried searching for him but I couldn't find him. I ran for help and that's when I fell and hit my arm."   
"Is Will your boyfriend?" Dave asks.   
She shakes her head, "No, he's… he's my friend."   
The girl's accent is a little unusual and I'm trying to place it. As if reading my thoughts she goes on, "I'm British, my… my family moved to Chicago when I was thirteen. I went through high school with Will, we grew up together… he's my best friend, he's… he's everything… you _have_ to find him." She looks at me resolutely, searching my face with her eyes. Pleading me wordlessly to help her. And my heart goes out to her, this petite brunette sitting cross-legged before me. Little girl lost. And for a fleeting second I see myself reflected in her expression.   
"I'll try the lifeguard," I assure her with a sympathetic smile. "What's his last name?"   
"Kirton," she tells me before spelling it.   
I write it down faithfully. "And your name?"   
"Sarah Hunt."   
"Okay, I'll go call," I tell her, "Dr. Dave here is gonna start fixing your arm up whilst I'm gone."   
She smiles appreciatively at me.   
"Uh, actually," Dave begins, "I'm off and there's a cute blonde outside that I don't wanna keep…" he trails off as he spies my glare.   
It's one patient, not even a difficult case. She's upset and he wants to bail. Sometimes I really hate Dave. 

I reach the front desk and pick up the phone. I'm about to dial when a gurney crashes through the double doors. Weaver hobbles over to meet it and calls me to help. I spy the young guy on the trolley and a sinking feeling makes friends with my stomach.   
"Do you have an ID?" I ask the paramedic.   
He shakes his head, "Lifeguard pulled him out of the lake thirty minutes ago. There was a pulse when we arrived on scene but we lost it pretty quickly. There were some clothes on the beach but no driver's licence or ATM card."   
I gaze at the ashen face before me before stating slowly, "his name is Will, Will Kirton."

In the split second it takes for Weaver to look up at me in puzzlement, Sarah bursts out of the exam room.   
"Will?" she cries, "Will?"   
I touch her good arm gently, "Sarah, let them work."   
She shrugs me off and runs up to the gurney, her hand clasping his tightly.   
"Abby," Weaver says pointedly.   
I pull Sarah away lightly, being careful not to touch her injured forearm. She resists strongly and I have to loop my arms around her waist to prevent her following her friend into the trauma room.   
"I want to see him," she chokes through the sobs rising up in her throat.   
"Let the doctors try to help him first," I tell her.   
She nods in acceptance as tears spill over onto her cheeks to be brushed away with the flick of a hand. Clawing at the glass of the door she watches every movement occuring in the room, ignoring my gentle persuasion to move her away.

As I feared, Weaver slows down. Her hands drop to her sides and her eyes dart to the clock. The code is over.   
Sarah knows it as soon as I do and she finally allows the sobs to engulf her body and she slumps to her knees. I crouch down to her level and rub her shoulder affectionately. However, this empathetic gesture only provokes more tears and she falls into my embrace. 

Moments later, Kerry reappears to break the news.   
I glance upwards and mouth, "she knows."   
Nodding in acceptance, Weaver shuffles away.   
Bending closer to whisper, I ask, "would you still like to see him?"   
Sarah lifts her tear-stained face to mine before nodding.   
"Okay," I reply.   
I hold open the door and she steps through it before padding across the floor to where her friend's body lays.   
Delicately, she lifts his limp hand with her own and interlaces their fingers together. Tenderly she sweeps a blonde tendril away from his face.   
And in a low voice she recites, "We call that person who has lost his father, an orphan; and a widower that man who has lost his wife. But that man who has known the immense unhappiness of losing a friend, by what name do we call him? Here every language is silent and holds its peace in impotence."   
I don't know the source, but it's beautiful.   
Leaning forward slowly, she plants a light kiss on the boy's lips.   
Turning back to me she explains, "I never had the courage to do that before now."   
Understanding washes over me and I smile sorrowfully at the figure in front of me. "Take all the time you need."

***********************************************************

The rest of my shift passes by in a blur and before I know it I'm trudging up the stairs of my apartment building. After the day I've had the urge to drink is almost overwhelming. On entering the apartment the first thing I do is make for the bottle of vodka sitting on the table. And summoning every ounce of strength I have left, I unscrew the cap and empty the contents down the drain, temptation flowing away as swiftly as it appeared.   
After Sarah left the hospital I took a break and visited Maggie in the ICU. Her status hadn't changed, but in that moment I was comforted by the mere fact that she was still with me. I glance across at the picture of her on the coffee table. Her expression is light and carefree. I wish the same could be said of mine.

I fix up some dinner and settle down to watch TV before turning in for the night. The couch is cool and soft and my aching back relishes its feel. Today has been the longest day. It seems an eternity since I was bearing my soul to John beside the river. I close my eyes, picturing Carter's face as I opened up to him; kindness etched into every pore. My head begins to feel hazy and I can feel sleep descending, its presence more than welcome. But the universe doesn't want to let me rest yet, as into my somnolent state bursts a harsh knocking sound. I prise my eyes open and walk across to the door. This had better be important.

"Luka!" I exclaim in surprise as I throw open the door.   
"Hey Abby," he says walking into my apartment and dumping down a paper bag on the kitchen table. "I brought chinese food," he explains.   
I force a smile; so much for sleep.   
"I haven't seen you much lately," he adds whilst shrugging off his coat.   
I rub at the creak in my neck. "I've been really busy," I reply.   
"I know." He walks over to the kitchen and takes out two plates. "I bought dragonfly tofu," he informs me.   
I'd rather not eat than eat tofu, surely he knows that? "I'm really not hungry," I tell him.   
He frowns a little and serves up onto one plate only, before walking back towards me.   
"How was your day?" he asks as he shovels forkfuls of the firey food towards his mouth.   
"Long," I reply noncommittally.   
"You look tired," he comments.   
I smile, "thanks."   
He puts the meal to one side and tilts my chin up towards his face before leaning forward and kissing me.   
I don't even pretend to respond; I'm too tired and my heart really isn't in it. And then I realize that it's not merely the vile tofu concoction he devoured that's deterring me. It's not just about being preoccupied with what's happening with my mother. I simply don't want this. Luka is a good man but I don't want this relationship that we've cultivated for ourselves. A relationship in which we never talk; not about the important things. We're both lost souls who are looking for something, but this isn't it. And not only do I not want this, but I don't _need_ it, not anymore.

He pulls away from my lips and I look up into his eyes.   
"Luka, I don't think this is working."   
He looks at me quizzically, "What isn't?"   
I bite my lip. "You and me… us," I add awkwardly.   
"Oh," he drops his hands to his side.   
"It's not you… it's… me." I wince at the cliché.   
His face wears a pained expression. "I should go," he tells me.   
"You can stay," I voice lamely, "finish your food."   
He shoots a pointed look in my direction. "It's turned cold."   
Ouch.   
Grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch he turns for the door.   
"I'm sorry Luka."   
He glances back over his shoulder and replies softly, "goodbye Abby."   
The door clicks shut and he's gone. 


End file.
